Hey, Cam. Louise, what are you doing here?
You're not dropping out
of the league championship tonight, are you?
Louise is dropping out of the league championship?
Did you shoot yourself in the leg again?
Oh, my God, we're one win away from my first sports trophy,
and then this happens.
All I said was "Hey, Cam."
So, this year, I invited Mitchell
to join my gay bowling team -- the Britney Spares.
I came up with the team name, I designed the shirts.
Yeah. It's not important who gets the credit.
When we first stated, my bowling was, um -- well, it was iffy.
But then I practiced and I practiced
until the shoe-rental guy called me "decent."
I'm not here as a teammate.
I'm here on official police business. What?
Please tell me that is not you.
What is that?
Oh, no.
Oh.
No, no, no.
Hmm. That's Fizbo...
Mm-hmm. ...with a scary mask.
That's clearly not me. It's not him.
No! Who would do that?
Who would take something so beautiful
and turn it into something so ugly?
How did the guy get the costume?
Oh, who knows?
Your father gave it to charity.
By accident.
How did I not hear that fight?
Was I in town?
All right, then, uh, case closed.
I'll see you guys tonight.
What? No "case closed."
We haven't even found the perp!
Look, the only reason I was following up on this
is 'cause I thought it might be you.
Well, yeah, but we have to get my costume back.
We have to restore Fizbo's good name.
Oh, but we're -- we're still gonna go bowling, right?
Wow.
You give away my beloved alter ego,
and you won't even allow me 30 seconds
to have an emotional reaction?
Yeah. No, it sounded fast as I was saying it.
-- Captions by VITAC --
Captioning Provided by 20th Century Fox Television and ABC, Inc.
and brought to you by Ford. We go further, so you can.
**
And now for the finishing touch.
Franks for Frank!
Dad's bachelor party's gonna be epic.
You couldn't see it. That's why -- Boom!
Chicken wraps, white wine, fudge.
Is this a bachelor party
or a party where ladies sit around watching "The Bachelor"?
And why did you get me a triple-XL?
The lady said it'd shrink in the wash.
How's it gonna do in the trash? Jay.
Kidding. I'll use it to wash my car.
My dad is marrying my old babysitter Lorraine,
who has a son,
which means that I am finally getting a brother!
When I was young, I wanted a brother so much,
my folks got me bunk beds.
At night, I'd pretend he was up there and talk to him,
and when he didn't answer back, I always just figured,
"Well, Marty's in a mood again."
Excuse me. Do you serve crabs here?
We serve anyone.
Jokes only get old because they're good, right?
Nailed it.
Phil, this is Ray.
Wow. I guess we're gonna be brothers.
Bring it in.
Ah. Oh!
Oh! No. Oh! What's happening?
We're brothers! Isn't this what brothers do?
I don't know, but I love it!
Whoa!
This guy totally tried to touch my ding-dong.
Oh.
I didn't know it was that kind of party.
I guess you didn't see the white wine and fudge.
White wine? That's not gonna get me there.
Am I the only one who sees me
choking that guy out tonight?
I don't know.
I got a good feeling about Ray,
and I-I felt a lot of him.
He's just a little wound up from the drive.
I'm sure you'll find he's a real solid citizen.
The sap across the hall left his door open.
That's my room!
Oh. So, I guess you'll need these.
Before we start, thanks for agreeing
to do this read through of my latest play,
"A Withering Farewell Under a Harvest Moon"...
So catch--
...colon, "The Tears of Angels."
So catchy! Right?
It's a story of four women who come together
to mourn the loss of the family patriarch.
Oh, no. So sad, so very sad.
Pace yourself, crazy. We haven't even started.
A man died, Claire.
A fake man,
and if he was a patriarch, he was a fake old man,
and old men die.
Surely, this is a thought
that has occurred to you from time to time, huh?
Please don't make me part of this.
Anyway, when it's over,
feel free to share your thoughts --
What you liked, what you loved, but also the negatives --
what went over your head, any words you didn't know.
I'm submitting my latest play to a young playwrights festival,
but I want to hear it out loud first
to be sure I've hit all my emotional marks.
One might ask, "Why all female characters?"
Let's just say, write what you know.
Wait. To clarify, I understand women.
I don't feel like I am one.
110 pages?
What time are we supposed to get out of here?
Oh, honey, you got a hot date tonight?
Mom, don't be mean. Ignore her.
I actually am in a relationship,
but I've been hiding it from everybody
because I have once again chosen somebody
that is completely inappropriate.
It's this older guy -- Ben.
He works for my mother, and he lives with his mother.
I'm like a moth to a flame
if the flame is an underachieving man-child
with a Tasmanian Devil tattoo on his butt.
Sorry, this is going to take longer than I expected.
Can you wait there?
Sure.
My mom's got her poker girls over, anyway.
This one lady, Karen, she gets real handsy with me.
She's not un-hot, either.
She's like an older, curvy Emily Blunt but Indian.
Don't try to make me jealous, Ben.
One of my regulars at the coffee shop
is always asking if I want to do some motorboating.
If I didn't get seasick, I'd go.
Now, okay, I don't want to get ahead of myself,
but does the trophy have each of our names,
or is it just the team name,
'cause I kind want one of my own, but --
You know what? No, never mind. I'll just get it engraved.
Okay, how can you be thinking
about bowling at a time like this?
You mean as we're going in to our bowling championship?
Oh. Text message.
Read text message.
You have a message from Martin.
"I keep picturing you guys
holding the trophy later tonight.
Just kidding.
You're not invited to my victory party.
Ha ha."
Oh.
Hello, Martin.
Hello, Cameron. Hello, Mitchell.
Where's the rest of Britney Queers?
It's the Britney Spares, Martin.
The Britney Queers were eliminated weeks ago.
Yes, by us.
Eventually, all will fall to The Gay City Bowlers.
I forget. Do all the names have to be puns?
Yes. It's like hair salons.
Unpleasant as always, Martin.
I'll see you in the alley.
I'm sure you say that to a lot of men.
Mitchell! Fizbo!
What? Over there!
Cam -- Cam, do you think it's possible
with how upset you are about Fizbo
that -- that maybe you're seeing things?
Oh. No.
Maybe it's another guy with purple hair and a size 23 shoe.
Maybe Dennis Rodman bowls here!
And we begin.
"Lights up on the living room of James Pickett.
The furnishings and art tell us he was a wealthy man,
but his money couldn't buy taste.
Enter four women in black returning from a funeral.
First, James' widow Chloe Dubois-Pickett"...
That's me!
..."a beautiful French commoner who married up."
Ooh, là l.
Next is Bailey, the granddaughter --
cute as a button and just as smart."
I like her.
"Following her is James' sister,
Professor Alma Diller, 60s.
There's no problem she can't solve
except her own loneliness.
Finally, James' daughter Kate --
attractive, intense, sharp-tongued,
fleeting moments of warmth."
"Fleeting moments of warmth"?
I get it.
This is the story of the four of us
through some sort of distorted Manny lens.
Yeah, just because I'm smart, I end up a spinster? Mm-hmm.
You know what I could be doing right now
if I didn't get seasick?
Okay, calm down.
These characters are a compilation
of many other women I've known, not you people.
Okay, let's start.
"Kate enters and crosses straight to the credenza.
As she pours herself a much-needed glass of wine"...
Mm. Right.
"To be honest, I can't believe
the old grump didn't die years ago."
Nice.
My first line is something horrible about my dead dad.
How cold do you think I am?
Didn't I just say it's not you?
Isn't it, though?
What?
"Old people die, get over it"?
That was, like, 20 minutes ago.
Okay, now, hang on a second.
Okay, this seems like a whole thing,
so I'm just gonna go grab a water real quick.
Oh, come on.
Who are you texting?
Ahh! No one.
I'm just reading my horoscope. Liar.
Why would anyone read their horoscope so late in the day?
Everything's already happened.
There's a dude, isn't there?
What? No.
Sneaking off with your phone,
the clean hair,
your one bra that fits properly -- spill.
Okay, fine.
There is a dude.
Oh, God, it's not another high-school boy, is it?
No. He's legal.
He's just embarrassing in a different way.
You know you've been like this your whole life --
ashamed of the romantic, sexual part of you.
Honestly, it seems like you think you don't deserve it,
but you do.
And if this guy is fun and good to you
and doesn't ride a scooter, let it be okay.
Haley.
Thanks.
Ladies, I don't know
what emotional thing is playing out right now,
but how about you save it for over there?
And then I sent you the cutest video
of a puppy nursing on a mama lion,
and what do you text back?
"She's getting him fat
so that he tastes better at lunch"?
Yeah, so what? My crime is I'm hilarious?
Can we get back to this, please?
Kate just said she couldn't believe
her father didn't die sooner, then --
"The Widow Dubois slumps in a chair, emotional."
"Ohh, ma chérie,
your papa would be devastated to hear you say
such insensitive things."
Really?
Are you gonna do the whole accent thing?
Lo and behold -- What do we see?
The queen of spades is gone! Where could she be?
In Frank's pocket. I saw you put it there.
So it is!
Great trick, Phil.
And nice assist, Ray.
I thought this was supposed to be a bachelor party.
Where's the female entertainment?
Oh, don't you worry about that.
* Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream *
* Bum, bum, bum, bum
* Make him the cutest that I've ever seen *
* Bum, bum, bum, bum
* Give him two lips like roses and clover *
* Bum, bum, bum, bum
* And tell him that his lonesome nights are -- *
What are you doing?!
Calling time of death.
Oh, not you ladies.
You're still very vital, of course.
Hey, we really appreciate
all the riveting you did during the war.
Dad was enjoying them.
Just as well.
I'm about to be married.
I don't need to be tempted
by all those bum, bum, bums.
Oh, is that it for the planned activities?
No, we're just getting started.
For the next hour, it's a $5 buy-in game of Uno,
then downstairs to Captain Scupper's,
the best oysters in the desert.
And finally, put on your neckties, gentlemen,
'cause I have four balcony seats to Mr. Neil...
Please say "Diamond."
...Sedaka.
What a night!
Oh, we need some ice.
I'll be right back.
What the hell's Uno?
Sort of a thinking man's Crazy Eights.
Instead of playing cards up here,
there is a casino downstairs with actual big-boy drinks.
I'm right behind him.
We'll grab Phil on the way.
Or wouldn't it be fun for him to try and find us?
Oh, he'll love that!
Hey, Louise,
I just saw that psycho imposter clown
out by the dumpster giving me threatening looks.
Look, Flouncy -- It's Fizbo.
I'm talking to you.
I don't have time for your clown nonsense.
We've got a championship to win.
I'm gonna go warm up with the Pindigo Girls.
Why does this have to be happening today?
Mitchell, maybe it's happening because it's today.
Maybe somebody is trying to get in my head
to throw me off my game.
Oh, honey, do you really think people care enough to --
Hey, you know what, there are six people just in my eyesight
that would do anything to break my winning streak.
For instance, Martin.
He's never forgiven me for making him feel
like your father was in love with him.
Okay, it couldn't have been Martin.
We saw him, like, three seconds
before you thought that you saw Fiz--
Actually saw. Okay.
And what's this about my dad?
Fine. It's not Martin.
But it certainly could be Señor Kaplan.
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis.
Hola, Señor Kaplan.
If you're here to talk trash, I'm not interested.
Where were you 20 minutes ago,
and can anybody account for your whereabouts?
Not that it's any of your business,
but I happened to be in the photo booth taking some solos.
I'm gonna use number three for my new passport.
I would use number two. There's a twinkle in your eye.
But I have a different theory
as to where you were 20 minutes ago,
and it would have given you exactly enough time
to change out of a clown costume into your bowling outf--
What's wrong? Wha-- No. No, no.
I just saw -- I just saw Fi-- Fizbo
in -- in -- in the mirror.
I don't know what's going on with you, Tucker,
but in my culture, we like to call it loco en la cabeza.
Okay, you know what? Knock it off. You're Canadian.
"You all seem to forget I'm not alone. I have Albert.
You can search the world, and I defy you
to find a more devoted, loving...
parrot."
"I used to like talking to Albert,
but then we got into a fight over a cracker."
"Kate whispers to Bailey as they watch the Widow
sadly plunking notes on the piano."
"How long do we have to stay with her?
We can leave now, right?"
"I knew when your papa died,
I would never see you again."
"No matter what I do,
you refuse to accept that I accepted you."
"Mais non.
I'm sorry.
I'm just so emotional today."
"But of course you are, Chloe.
And I'm sorry if I made you feel like an outsider."
"I love you, you know? Je t'aime."
"I love you, too."
Black out.
Bravo! Bravo!
Really, Manny?
My character gets into a fight with a parrot over a cracker?
I told you that story in confidence.
And for the record...
I am nothing like my character.
I'm not lonely at all.
I have tons of options.
I'm actually going to see one right now.
And thanks to Haley,
I'm no longer ashamed of talking about him.
Ooh! Who is it?
-No one. -What's his name?
Nothing.
Well, if that's it for the feedback...
No, actually... Oh. Yay.
...for me, the ending felt a little trite.
There's a lot of good stuff in there,
but the whole "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I love you, I love you" -- I just --
I think women are more complicated than that.
Don't listen to her, Manny.
The ending was beautiful.
It's just that some women have a hard time
expressing their feelings.
Oh, this again?
Gloria, I'm a very feeling person.
Oh, really?
From the woman that writes in my birthday cards
"Best, Claire."
How is that not warm?
I am wishing you quite literally the best.
I am a person in your family.
I am not the woman that does your eyebrows.
Why would I send her a birthday card?
The question is why can't you write "Love, Claire"?
I write "Love, Gloria."
I even dot the "I" with a huge heart.
I tell you that I love you, and you say "Me, too."
Why? Why can't you tell me that you love me?
I don't know why I can't tell you that I --
There was a time when I wanted to,
and then the moment passed and time went by
and then it just felt forced.
You -- You say it all the time.
One could argue that dilutes it.
Oh, so now it's my fault?
I am lashing out at you
because this is not the first time
I've been accused of this.
I am sorry I haven't said it before, Gloria.
I love you.
Mm. Okay.
My God, you're right. It is trite.
You got this, Sam! Come on.
Come on!
You on the other hand -- you throw one more gutter ball,
and I will literally frame you for murder.
No pressure.
Mwah!
I wonder what that's about.
Oh! Shh, shh, shh!
Hmm.
You two seem awfully chummy.
Well, if by "chummy," you mean,
"in the throes of an electric sexual relationship,"
then, yes, you bet your bowling balls we're chummy.
Oh, my gosh.
I just put it all together.
You're both Fizbo.
When I'm with one of you,
the other's wearing the costume, creating the perfect alibi.
Light-bulb moment!
This clown thing again.
Look, Tucker, if I wanted to get back at you
for, oh, I don't know, say something like
setting me up with your straight father-in-law,
I certainly wouldn't do it
by stealing your stupid Bozo suit. It's Fizbo.
Way to take the high road, sweetie.
First, I'd hack your e-mails,
then I'd create several fake social-media accounts,
which I would use to mount the multi-pronged smear campaign
to drive a wedge between you and everything you love.
Wow.
That's maybe a bit of a red flag.
And then I'd get several credit cards in your name
and then embark on a massive identity-theft scheme
that would leave you bankrupt
and, with any luck at all, facing criminal charges.
That's what I'd do.
Okay. She's a bit of a handful, huh?
You know, I was thinking, maybe we should take a beat
on meeting your parents this weekend.
What do you say? All right.
What?
Bravo! Bravo.
If you think your little over-the-top revenge monologue
is gonna throw me off your scent,
then you are sorely mistaken.
Now open your bag.
What?
All of you, open your bags!
You don't have -- Cam, you got to stop.
Open them! Hey, hey!
You're paranoid. You are paranoid.
No one is dressing up...
Oh, damn it, I hate it when you're right.
What -- Oh! There he is!
Chase him! Get him!
Stop! Imposter!
Oh.
Close your door, ma'am! We're in pursuit!
Okay, okay, okay. Thank you!
Okay.
We lost him.
Wait. His mask.
It smells like beer and cheese fires.
Oh, Mitchell, that's good investigative work. Yes.
You've narrowed it down
to everyone in the bowling alley.
Uno.
There you are.
We've been looking all over for you.
Did you check in here, in the room where the party is?
Don't worry. We didn't forget about you.
Boop.
I hope it was worth it.
We missed our reservation to Captain Scupper's.
Don't worry, Phil. We ate.
Pit boss sent some shrimp cocktails
over to our craps table.
Along with some regular cocktails, am I right?
Yeah!
You -- You had to be there.
I get it. You had shrimp and drinks.
Now, if it's not too much trouble,
maybe we could get back on schedule.
We don't want to miss Sedaka's opening act --
Extremely Little Richard.
Good golly, is he small!
Change of plans -- I traded those tickets
for seats to "Sexcalibur."
You what? It's a dirty "Medieval Times."
Are you kidding me?
It's okay, Phil.
I waited 79 years to see Neil Sedaka.
I can wait another 79.
No, Dad. You're being too nice.
This is your bachelor party, not yours!
You're ruining this whole night.
You ruined it when you planed it.
And get that finger out of my face.
Nobody hijacks my dad's party,
and nobody tells me where to put my finger.
Boop!
Here we go.
I wanted a brother when I was 10,
not a 10-year-old brother!
You're the baby!
You're older, but you're the baby.
You're no Marty!
It's not much of a fight, but maybe we should --
I know. I thought it was gonna get good.
All right, that's enough. Stop.
Phil, you're being ridiculous.
Ray, I don't know you, but you seem like a horse's ass.
All right, now! Grow up!
Start acting like gentlemen.
Uh, would you two mind
stepping out in the hall for a second?
I need to have a word with Phil.
All right, but hurry up.
We don't want to miss the unlacing of the first wench.
You know, I really appreciate
all you've done arranging my party,
but, you know, I'm happy doing whatever.
Is something else bothering you?
I don't know.
So much is changing, Dad.
I guess I'm kind of afraid that this is the end of an era.
Now I have to share you with Lorraine, with that.
You're not losing me.
As a matter of fact, you're gonna be seeing a lot more of me.
Lorraine and I have been kind of kicking around the idea
of moving to California.
To be closer to me?
Yes.
And to be farther from Ray.
Hey, Louise, we just saw evil Fizbo again.
It's true. I was there. We lost him in the parking lot.
Yeah, we looked in every car.
Geez, Louise, there has to be something you can do.
Fine. First thing tomorrow, I'll look into it
if you can focus on bowling.
I can. There you are.
I've been looking all over for you. It's your turn.
Sorry. I was in the ladies room.
I was putting IcyHot on my hammies.
Mm.
Ahh! Ohh.
D-Did you do something to your hand?
I just hurt it playing air hockey.
They got rid of the air hockey table months ago.
Uh -- Nothing. I mean, I was --
Wait -- W-Wait -- Wait a minute.
You go missing,
then you mysteriously hurt your hand, and t--
Okay, okay -- There is lipstick in this mask,
and it is -- It is the same shade
as the lipstick on your beer.
You're Fizbo?
You wear lipstick?
But you're on our team.
Why would you do this?
Because you bug me.
That's it?
You picked the team name, you designed the shirts,
you take all the credit.
Everything's about you.
You messed with his head so he'd lose us the team championship.
Yeah, opening the door for -- for you to be captain.
I should be captain.
Give me my Fizbo.
You get out of my face.
Wait, wait, no. Hold on. Hold on.
Is there still a chance that we could win this?
Not unless we can pick up 57 pins in one frame.
Yeah. And you get out of his face.
Hello, fruit of your father's loins. "Mitchell's" fine.
You know, speaking of Jay --
You brought him up.
Well, your father and I had a moment...
Uh-huh. ...a couple of years ago
when he was pretending to be gay
so that he could bowl in our league.
I know he said it was all an act,
but what I felt from him --
It was just so very real.
Okay, Martin, I hate to break this to you,
but my dad is potentially
the straightest man on the planet.
Yeah, but that not withstanding,
do you think maybe you could give me his phone number?
It's just always felt like unfinished business to me.
I am not giving you his phone number.
I'll give you my trophy.
It's 3-1-0...